


i want to scream the truth

by Skyuni123



Series: Brokenwood Fic Week, Feb 2018 [2]
Category: The Brokenwood Mysteries
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Pain, Rescue Missions, Whump, sam and kristen are ride or die, they're just shit at expressing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: Sometimes cases go wrong. This is the aftermath.(Day 2 of brokenwoodfanpage'sfic week!)





	i want to scream the truth

It feels like years.

Days upon days of dry rope rasping against her wrists, of itching scars and blood dripping from her lips. It’s a constant haze in her head, a dull throbbing that rattles the insides of her skull, and cracked lips begging for water.

 

It’s been days.

She doesn’t even remember how it happened. She doesn’t remember how she was taken.

 

All there is now is the coppery tang of blood on her teeth, sweat stinking up the air, and grime underfoot.

The darkness is all-encompassing around her, forcing her isolation. If she squints, sometimes, she’s sure she sees dark shapes in the corner of her eyes, darting away when she turns to look at them. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s been here, only knows the heaviness of her head and the concrete floor below.

 

The floor feels cool against her cheek but it does nothing to allay the pain in her hands from the rope. She can feel someone coming, footsteps thudding along the floor.

She hopes They’re not coming back.

She hopes it’s all in her head.

  
  


But a spear of light pierces through her skull as the door is opened, and she screams out, cowering away from the source. 

 

“Jesus, fuck, Christ.” There’s a crackle of static as someone - she recognises the voice but can’t place it (is it one of Them coming back?) - speaks into a walkie-talkie. “I’ve found her. I need a med evac for the east side of the compound, room 28, quickly!”

 

Then the someone drops heavily onto the ground behind her. 

 

She flinches, tries to pull away. Last time they’d done that, it’d hurt. 

 

“Kris.  _ Kristen.  _ It’s me. Can I touch you? To untie you?” The man is gentle. He doesn’t sound like the others. 

 

_ Kristen.  _ She’s  _ Kristen.  _ That’s right. That’s her. 

 

The man sounds like someone she knows, but she can’t think of the name. It’s too far away. Too much right now. But he’s going to untie her. She needs to get out. 

“Please.” She croaks, not really wanting him to touch her, but wanting escape so desperately that she can’t say no. 

 

She hears him open a switchblade and shudders instinctively, the sound ricocheting around in her head like a bullet. They had knives.

 

“I’m just going to cut your hands free. Okay?” 

 

She nods gingerly, not trusting her voice enough to speak. The movement sends a bolt of pain up her back and into the base of her skull, and she grunts.

 

“We’re going to get you out of here.” 

 

The first touch on her wrists makes her exhale sharply and it almost takes it out of her not to move. There’s some scratching, a little pulling, and then a sudden release of pressure around her wrists.

 

She’s free!

She’s free.

 

She struggles to rise to her feet, ignoring the man beside her. She’s got to get out. Daylight is so close.

But she can’t. Her legs give way before she’s even made it properly off the ground, and she collapses back down, thighs smarting.

The only reason her head doesn’t hit the floor again is because the stranger’s in the way. 

 

She scrabbles for purchase against him, not wanting to hold on, but not wanting to let go either. He feels warm. Safe. Familiar.

“Why don’t I know you?” She slurs, suddenly desperate to learn the answer. “I know you, but I don’t.  _ Why  _ are you helping me?”

 

Angry tears spring to her eyes as she buries her head in his shoulder. It’s been so long since anyone touched her gently, and his hand on her back feels like home. 

“We’re co- we’re friends. We’ve been friends for years.” He exhales shakily, voice rough. “You thought I was an idiot for like… five years. It’s Sam.”

 

_ Sam. _

_ Oh. _

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [ tumblr ](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)


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